Spare Parts
by paperfires
Summary: Elia Quint didn't have a happy childhood. But it got better, and then it got worse. She's sixteen years old, a genius, and is ridden with major daddy issues. Leaving her home in Boston to spend Christmas with her godmother, she meets the Avengers and they help her through her problems. Though it might be a bit difficult with the source of her problems there as well.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I will say this once and only once. Marvel is not mine and neither are any of it's characters/plots/etc.

* * *

She waited as she always did; in the living area, on the couch, the television turned to some cartoon show with the volume just barely loud enough to hear. In her hands was a 3x3 Rubik's cube, mostly solved but not done yet. Next to her feet which were crossed at the ankles and propped up on the coffee table sat a cluster of varying Rubik's cubes. There was one shaped like a pyramid, one with irregularly shaped blocks, a sphere, a regular 3x3 cube but with numbers instead of colours, and a 5x5 cube. She'd already solved each puzzle twice and was growing bored.

Checking the clock on her phone and sighing when she saw that it was almost midnight, she felt frustration bubbling within her. It wasn't that she normally went to bed early, but it had been 51 hours and 49 minutes since she last slept and could feel her eye-lids growing heavier by the second. Coffee no longer had any effect on her after the copious amount she'd consumed to stay awake to this point. Her fingers stopped playing with the cube, her hands and the toy falling motionless in her lap.

She tiredly turned her head to look out the window and found that it was snowing. There was just over a week until Christmas and New York City looked the part. Colourful lights were strung up inside and outside buildings, holiday decorations everywhere you looked. The radio stations played carols and the usual seasonal songs of December. Santa Claus was at the malls, listening to the Christmas wishes of the children who sat on his lap, eagerly telling him about something that would make their Christmas special.

At the moment, all Elia Quint wanted was for her damned father to come home so that she could finally trudge to her room and sleep. She could have very well just gone to bed then and get some sleep while she could, but when her father finally did return he would no doubt go into her room and wake her, tell her 'hello' and perhaps even try to catch up then and there. No, it was better to just wait it out and then make a hasty escape to her sanctuary.

Elia wasn't on particularly good terms with her father, on her part at least. He'd been absent most of her life and with her mother dead and gone only hours after her birth, she'd grown up bouncing between foster parents and boarding schools. After her last foster father was no longer able to take care of her, her actual father stepped in and took her back as his own. Except she had school in another state and so she still wasn't around him much. Not that she minded. Her entire life Elia grew to hate her father even if she didn't know him too well. They agreed that she would spend her vacations at his home, as he insisted upon. Elia would have been perfectly happy rooming with her best friend, Anna, and enjoying her vacations with her family. Anna's family had grown into her own over the years, the other girl's parents' sometimes forgetting that they only had one daughter.

But Elia's father was a stubborn man and did nothing short of demand that she at least spent the holidays with him. So it as that Elia would do her best to remain in her room all of winter break, waiting impatiently for her supposed vacation to end.

She let out a loud sigh and slumped to her right, her head falling onto the cushioned arm rest of the couch. Elia couldn't wait to go back to school.

~H~

The Avengers returned to Stark Tower exhausted but holding together better than they usually did. The worst injuries were mere scrapes and bruises and everyone actually seemed to be in a decent mood. Steve was completely fine, the small cuts he'd gotten had already healed –thanks to the serum – and was slowly learning to ignore Tony's jabs, even managing his own witty retort now and then. Bruce was probably the happiest of them all. He didn't have to become the Other Guy on this mission, and for that he was ever thankful. Clint and Natasha seemed the same, retaining their cool agent exteriors, but a smile could be seen now and then at Steve and Tony's banter. Thor hadn't been with them what with him being in Asgard, a world away and not worth the commute for the fairly simple mission they sorted out. In actuality the mission had been a bit rougher and more difficult than usual, but they had succeeded and even managed to save a couple lives, and so they were feeling pretty good.

Tony however, was slightly edgy. He didn't have any injuries; a couple of bruises after a hard knock or two were all that he had. He was having some fun teasing Cap again, but there was something he was forgetting. Something very important. He mentally went over a list of his friends' birthdays but came up with nothing. He went through a to-do list on his phone, and while most of the items were unchecked, none of them rang the bell that told him what he was missing.

"Who votes Tony makes us some hot chocolate?" Clint said and raised his hand. Three other hands went up as well. It was two in the morning, though none of them felt it. They were all jet lagged from their mission and felt as if it were two in the afternoon.

"What? Why me? We all know Cap makes the best hot cocoa. I burn water."

"Yeah, but you 'updated' the kitchen and none of us know how to get around in it now, least of all Steve. No offense," Bruce argued. It was true, Tony liked to set up new technologies around the tower, and often the prototypes were just a bit less than user friendly. Natasha had nearly blown up the kitchen when she tried to microwave some popcorn.

"Fine, but only because I don't hate you all at the moment," he huffed and the rest of the team went to settle themselves in the living room where they would probably turn the TV to some news channel. Steve would pull out his sketch book and draw something, Banner would undoubtedly be reading, and the assassins would throw darts at a picture of Tony's face. The Avengers had formed something of a family with each other; an odd dysfunctional family of misfits but a family no less. They still butted heads frequently and sometimes practically ripped each other apart, yet they held together.

As he rummaged through cupboards, looking for the can of hot chocolate mix and mugs, Tony continued to pillage his brain for the thing he was forgetting. It wasn't a birthday and it wasn't something he had to do. He didn't owe his team members any debts, or anyone else for that matter. There weren't any business meetings or appointments on his schedule and Pepper was in Seattle so he wasn't forgetting a date with her.

He poured heated milk into five mugs with the cocoa powder at the bottom. Christmas was in a week and he would have to start thinking of presents sometime soon. And then it hit him.

"Christmas holidays," he murmured under his breath.

He heard a loud noise from the living room and rushed to find out what happened.

"JARVIS, what's going on in there?" he asked the AI after hearing something that sounded suspiciously like a gun shot.

"It seems the others have found Miss Quint in the living room, Sir."

~H~

Steve and Bruce were holding back the two SHIELD agents who had drawn their weapons when he sauntered in. They all had changed into their regular clothes, but the assassins liked to carry at least one weapon on them at all times. Each Avenger stood tense, looking at the supposed enemy warily. Clint and Natasha were ready to shoot the intruder, however Steve and Bruce were against it, even if they didn't trust the intruder either. They faced the couch and looked up when Tony entered.

Tony stepped closer so he could see the trespasser's face, though he already knew who it was, and he smiled.

"You know, I'd be perfectly happy to not spend my holiday here. If you don't want me coming anymore you could just say, no need to have your friends shoot at me." Her voice hinted at boredom and her expression made it clear that she was irritated.

"Sorry, I forgot to tell them you would be coming. Back off, people." He motioned for them to step back and put away their weapons. They did so somewhat reluctantly.

"You know her, Tony?" Steve asked after a pause.

"Yeah, she's–"

"Pepper's goddaughter," the girl cut in. She stood up and moved away from the couch. Her hair was shorter than the last time he'd seen her and her figure had become more womanly. But she was still mostly the same. Again she wore her usual navy blue tuque and had the same sarcastic humor as always. His daughter was just as he remembered her. "When will she be back?"

"In three days or so," Tony replied. She nodded sleepily and started toward the elevator.

"Well, you've seen me, Sir. I'm going to bed. Don't even think of waking me up tomorrow."

And then she was gone.

"Explain," Natasha said flatly as they each found somewhere to sit. She didn't like surprises, especially ones that involved finding a sleeping teenage girl on the couch in what was supposed to be the high security home she was living in. The only people allowed on the top fifteen floors of Stark Tower were the Avengers, Pepper, and a very short list of people who weren't exactly regular civilians.

"Well, as she said, she's Pepper's goddaughter. She comes to the tower or wherever me and Pepper are for the holidays and spends her vacation with us."

"Her parents?" Clint asked from his spot in a recliner. Tony's phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to read the message.

"Her mother died when she was a baby and I'm h…" he let the sentence trail, having just read the text.

_Tell them I'm your kid and I will make you regret it_

_– EQ_

"Her dad's been gone for a while. Oh, and her name is–"

"Elia Quint, she told us after bullet number two," Bruce supplied.

_Elia Stark_, Tony wanted to say. Instead he joked, "Next time ask for permission before you shoot at my guests, alright?"

~H~

She opened her duffle bag and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tank top. She didn't bother to unpack the rest of her clothes – that could wait until after she obtained 24 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Elia crawled into the soft bed and brought the covers up to her shoulders. She slid her arm out of her cocoon and grabbed her phone from the nightstand.

"Messages from the only three people who I consider friends," she mumbled and tapped the icon to view the texts. She read each with half-lidded eyes.

_Is hedgehog urine flammable?_ Of course Anna would ask her something like that.

_Play nice, he's trying. See you soon._ It wouldn't exactly be soon, but that's what Skype was for wasn't it? Her former foster father was always doing his best to keep her in line, even if he wasn't responsible for her anymore.

_I broke the microwave. Need your help to fix it before mum and dad get back on Monday._ Elia wondered if the broken microwave had anything to do with the hedgehog urine. Justin and Anna's problems always seemed intertwined with one another. That probably had something to do with them being siblings and living under the same roof.

Elia didn't reply to the messages – she could do that later. For now she would just sleep. But then a thought struck her muddled mind and she reached for her phone again. She kept the message short and hoped with all she had that Tony did as she said. She wasn't quite sure how she would make good on her threat if he didn't, but she was certain she could figure out something horrendous if the time came.

~H~

Steve thought back to the girl, Elia. He was surprised to say the least when they went to the living room with the intention of unwinding from a mission and waiting out the jet lag, only to find what looked like a sixteen year old girl fast asleep on the couch. Clint and Natasha, with their untrusting instincts of course immediately had their guards up. Steve decided that waking up to a bullet landing two inches to the left of your head wasn't the most pleasant thing.

To her credit, she didn't scream or faint. In the first few moments after her waking Steve saw confusion, apprehension, alarm, and wariness flitter across her face. Then they were gone and replaced with a calm expression. Not once was there even the slightest a trace of fear. It seemed that they all noticed this, and so when she pushed herself up into an upright position, they tensed and Clint shot another warning round at her, this one making a small rip in the sleeve of her black cardigan, then said, "Don't move."

She put up her hands in surrender and remained seated.

"Who are you?" Bruce asked more kindly than the others probably could have managed at that moment. The four of them were still running on a bit of adrenaline from the mission and were more than a little jumpy, especially the assassins.

"Elia Quint, Mr. Tony Stark's guest," she replied evenly.

"At two in the morning?" Natasha questioned, her voice dripping with suspicion.

"I've been here for five hours, and it seems I'm going to have to pardon Stark's tardiness seeing as he was probably saving the world or something." Her tone was neutral, but Steve noted the slightest drop of contempt.

"What sort of 'guest' are you," Clint asked, lowering his gun slightly, an odd expression on his face.

"Not _that_ kind of guest… ew. And I don't think Stark likes his girls this young." Steve felt himself blush realizing what Clint had been implying.

"So, we've got the archer, the super-soldier, master assassin, and the giant green rage monster who actually looks pretty calm and not at all has huge or green as the videos show. I suppose the metal man is somewhere in this tower, which leaves hammer-man. Where'd he run off to?"

"Why do you know who we are?" The Avengers hadn't made their identities public and nor where they were living.

"Elementary, my dear Legolas," she replied unknowingly echoing Tony's nickname. "These two," she nodded to Natasha and Clint, "Are pretty easy to identify, what with she being a girl and him still wearing his finger tab. Four-eyes doesn't exactly look the part of a former military man, but blondie is practically screaming all-American hero." And then Tony had come in, probably hearing all the noise they'd made.

Though Steve was sure he had never met the girl before, he thought she seemed somewhat familiar. He didn't think too much about it, probably just a coincidence. What Steve couldn't get out of his head however, was the look of calm and unconcern she maintained after being shot at twice. Surely a teenager would be at least slightly panicked with four strangers looking down at her, two of which were pointing weapons at her. She was an odd girl, he concluded, even if he'd only met her for fifteen minutes at most.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Marvel and the Avengers are not mine.

* * *

The only ones actually up early enough for breakfast were Steve and Bruce, and even they were in the kitchen later than they usually were. All was quiet for a Wednesday morning. There were no audible explosions from the labs or anywhere else in the tower, there was no yelling, or sounds of catastrophe. It was one of those rare moments for the Avengers when life seemed almost peaceful.

That is until Tony came in, followed by a bed ruffled teenager. One plopped onto a stool at the marble island that was their breakfast table while the other made his way to the coffee machine.

"Good morning," Bruce greeted.

"Sleep well?" Steve continued.

"Didn't sleep, still on Austria time," the billionaire replied, finding some bread and sticking it in the toaster. Steve looked over to Elia for her answer, but paused when seeing her slumped against the table, head in the crook of her arm and quite clearly sleeping.

"Um, maybe she should go back to bed."

Tony scoffed. "No, teens sleep too much as it is."

Bruce gently nudged her shoulder. She didn't stir. He nudged her slightly harder. She grumbled something unintelligible, growling almost, and blindly swatted at him. "I know adolescents enjoy their sleep _very_ much, but this seems a bit excessive."

"Give her some coffee, she'll be fine." The billionaire sat down at the table, bringing with him two mugs of black coffee. "Drink up, kid."

Elia muttered something that sounded vaguely like "fuck off, asshole."

"Manners, manners, little girl. Where have they gone?" He pushed the mug closer until the hot exterior made contact with the skin of her arm. For several moments all was silent, and then Elia's arm twitched and she jerked back, nearly falling of her stool.

"Gah! Hot!" Her seat balanced precariously on only two legs until Steve steadied her with a hand to her elbow.

"See? Wide awake, coffee always does the trick." The man smirked far too childishly to be an adult.

Elia sighed, she was still dead tired, but the sleepiness was momentarily gone and it would take a few hours for it to come back. She glanced at the cursed coffee mug. Smelled nice, too bad she hated coffee. There were scrambled eggs in a pan along with some toast sticking out of a toaster. _Guess superheroes don't take time to plate stuff,_ she mused and filled her plate with breakfast goodness. Depositing her dish on the table and then making her way to the massive refrigerator, she searched for a carton of milk. She found it near the back and had to move several items before she could bring it out. As she fixed the rest of her breakfast, the three men watched her discreetly.

"If you want I can make some bacon," Steve offered when she seemed to notice the eyes on her.

She finished chewing her mouthful of toast – Steve appreciated the good manners – before answering. "No thanks, unless you've got Canadian bacon, them I'm all for some."

"We have some smoked ham," Bruce thought back to his earlier scavenging of the fridge.

"Never mind then."

"What, regular ol'bacon too American for you?"

"Mr. Stark, if you're going to drag me from my bed when I made it clear yesterday that I wanted to sleep in, the least you can do is shut up."

"Fine, but before that can you pour me more coffee?" He expected her to yell something about not being his maid, but instead she did as he asked and took his mug over to the far counter. He figured it as a good sign.

Elia took both the insufferable man's mug and her own to the coffee machine. She pretended to pour the bitter liquid up into the empty mug, though didn't push down on the little thumb tab to actually let it flow. She carried the mugs to the sink, depositing one and then taking her still filled cup to Tony. Why waste it if she wasn't going to drink any of it? She may feel like a black cloud of hate when she was tired, but that didn't mean she had to act like it.

~H~

Tony was the first to leave the table, followed by Bruce not long after at the sound of a muffled explosion.

"Want to go on an errand with me?"

"Pardon?" Steve hadn't expected her to say anything.

"I need to get some stuff and the resident 'genius' makes a fuss whenever I go somewhere alone."

"Um, sure…"

"Great, lemme go change and we can go." She sped out of the kitchen mumbling a quiet, "Can't wait to get out of here."

Steve was then left to deal with the after-breakfast mess alone. He didn't mind, in fact the liked the normalcy of the task. While he liked being Captain America, things got weird quickly and frequently, so something simple and menial like doing dishes was a nice reprieve.

He took his time cleaning up. Steve figured Elia would be a while and felt no need to rush. It seemed the girl would continue to surprise him, because when he turned around, there she was.

"Want some help?" She sat where she had during breakfast looking completely ready to go.

"I– um…"

"Something wrong?" she asked furrowing her brow the slightest bit and then looked down at herself, wondering if it was her.

"No! It's just, the girls– dames… no, women… Um…they usually take longer to get ready." He could almost hear Peggy laughing at him from heaven.

"I just changed and threw some stuff into my bag… not exactly going to Cinderella's ball." He nodded and finished putting away the tableware.

"C'mon, I need to grab my jacket and then we can go."

~H~

"So, where are we going?" Steve asked as they walked through the lobby.

"The place is about a thirty minute walk from here." The tall man frowned and looked thoughtful for a moment. It was December and he didn't particularly like the cold.

"We can take my motorcycle," he proposed.

"You have a motorcycle?" She seemed oddly delighted.

"Yeah. The wind might be a bit cold, but we won't have to be in it for very long."

"To the parking garage?" she asked with an elated grin.

"To the parking garage."

~H~

The shop was old, what people would now think of as 'antique'. To Steve it was like stepping into a chunk of his own time. Soft blues played from a radio in the back and the whole atmosphere of the place just felt like home. It smelled of aged paper and the room was decorated like any shop would have in his time. If Elia noticed the look on Steve's face she said nothing of it.

"This place has every book imaginable, not in high quantities, but that's okay because I don't need more than one copy of a book. Everything from Shakespeare's plays and sonnets to modern teen novels, though sometimes they're practically the same thing. And their reference section is absolutely mind-blowing. Science, history, mythology, everything! And it's only the good stuff here, nothing like Twilight or– Hey, Cap. You listening?"

"What?" She studied him for a moment.

"This place reminds you of something?" She kept the question vague, knowing exactly what he was thinking about and not wanting to make him hurt anymore.

"A bit," he murmured, still looking rather dazed.

"Let's go, you can carry my books." Elia grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him farther into the store, and Steve was glad for it, because if she hadn't he probably would have remained frozen in that spot, reliving a time long since gone.

He wasn't sure exactly when he came out of his reverie, but when he did he noticed Elia was still talking and he was holding several books. She would ask questions, directed at him, but then answered them herself moments later. He wasn't sure why she did it, but he knew that she'd taken into account that he wasn't quite there and was holding conversation for the both of them.

"Peanut butter milkshakes?"

"Oh, good, you're back."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"No problem. I'm done here, so we can go." The man at the register was an older fellow, though clearly younger how old Steve officially was. They stepped back out into the cold and Steve turned to Elia.

"Where to next?"

"Well, that's pretty much it for my errand. But I don't want to go back yet…" Her sentence trailed off and she looked uncomfortable about something.

"I know a place we hang around for a while if you want."

"That'd be nice."

They got onto Steve's bike, Steve making sure the girl's helmet was on properly, and were off.

~H~

"Brooklyn, huh?"

"Yeah, grew up here. Though it was very different back then."  
"And this gym…"  
"Found it a week after SHIELD set me up with an apartment. It's completely low-tech. There's a telephone in the office, some power outlets, and smoke detectors, but that's pretty much it for technology as far as I know."

"And you have the keys to this place because…?"

"The guy who owned it died in Loki's attack. I bought it and kept it going."

"Coolio. About owning the gym– not the dead guy. So no one's going to get mad at us for just being here."

"Nope."

So far, Elia was liking Steve. It may have had something to do with the fact that he had facilitated her escape from the tower, or perhaps simply because he was good company. So long as she didn't make too many pop-culture references they were good with conversation. The lights in the gym were soft, making the room feel warm despite the poor insulation and heating. All was going well as they sat in the boxing ring, talking about this and that, until he started asking questions about her.

"You don't seem to like the tower very much."

"JARVIS is okay, I guess." She fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve.

"That's it?"

"I like Pepper, when she's there."

"Everything else?"

"I'd rather be back home."

Steve studied the teenager. She was clearly uncomfortable and irritated with the turn of conversation, but Steve had a nagging feeling that something wasn't right. She was a great– girl that was certain. She was mature in a subtle way though retained many aspects of being sixteen. She was a well rounded person, open and smiling, but at the same time there was a sort of… guard that seemed to always be up around her. And he ran right into by calling her out on her dislike for the tower.

"Tony told us about your parents." If he didn't have assassins for friends or had gone up against men bent on controlling the world, he might have flinched at the look the stabbed him with.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. I know what it's like to lose parents, and I guess one of them who's absent is pretty much the same as them not being alive." She seemed to relax slightly with that information.

"Did your parents die before or after you went under?"

"Before. I never knew my dad; he died before I was born. My mom got sick and died because we couldn't afford treatment."

"Hmm… yeah, death sucks. Life goes on though. Oh, I've got something for you."

"You bought something for me?"

"Well, sort of. It's mine, but I'm giving it to you to borrow." She handed him a paperback of what he guessed was 500 pages and was titled _Guns, Germs, and Steel_. "I figured that you might like a break from catching up on stuff and read about something you know a bit about. It's still a bit about how our modern world came to be, but considering its focus is the colonisation era I think it's different enough."

"Have you read it?"

"Some of it, but then I lost the book so I never finished."

"Then you should read it first." He tried giving it back to her but she pulled out another book from her bag.

"I've got this to read for the time being. Now shut up and let me have my quiet time."

~H~

Elia turned to the first page of her book, _A Short History of Nearly Everything_. She snuck a glance at the super-soldier. He'd opened the book and seemed fully immersed in it. She could see why he was the team leader. Even when he was relaxing the man exuded strength, a look of concentration on his face and just the way he held himself made her trust him to a degree. She wondered what he was like during a mission. Elia went back to her pages but found that she could barely focus on the letters. Her eyes were getting heavy as she leaned onto the corner post and let herself fall into the haze of sleep.

~H~

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when his phone rang he'd read to page 341 of Elia's book. He noted absently that he was hungry.

"Steve Rogers," he answered seeing that the caller was none other than Tony.

"Cap, you're still with Elia right?" He glanced at where the girl had been reading and found her fast asleep against the ropes.

"I am–"

"Good. Get back here, Bruce is trying to make dinner but it looks _really_ spicy. We're going to need your less Indian styled cooking abilities."

"Sure, but I'm going to need some time. We're in Brooklyn and Elia's out like a light."

"She's asleep again? Wait, why are you in Brooklyn?"

"I think you probably should have let her sleep, Tony."

"Duly noted– No! Bruce, no more hot sauce!" The call ended and he put the phone away.

Steve stretched his arms over his head and went over to Elia. She was snoring softly.

"Time to get up, kid," he said gently and placed his palm over her knee.

"Five more minutes, Vince," she mumbled. Steve's brow knitted together. Vince?

"Tony just called, if we want an edible dinner we're going to have to rush to its rescue." Her eyes snapped open at 'Tony' and she stared at him in surprise and confusion. Then recognition filled her eyes and she blinked.

"What?"

"Apparently it's almost dinnertime, so we have to head back."

"Can't we just stay here and order a pizza or something?"

"Come on, we're going home." She grumbled a bit but got up anyway and nimbly ducked under the ropes and headed for the door. He easily caught up with her as she asked, "Are you sure we can't stay here?"

* * *

A/N: Anyone have a guess as to who Vince is?


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Steve and Elia returned, the kitchen was a complete mess. The night's chef, Bruce, was looking a little green and was sitting tiredly on a stool, every now and then shouting for the others to shut up. Thor stood by several crushed pots and pans (which looked suspiciously like they'd been beaten with Mjolnir) while contentedly eating Pop-Tarts. Natasha hovered in the back corner glaring, the sleeve of her shirt sporting a rather orangey stain. It didn't take long for Tony and Clint's shouting to get to her and she dove straight into their fight, the two males already going at it, one wearing his suit's gauntlet and the other trying to choke the inventor with his bow. Elia smelled something burnt, though she couldn't tell if it was from the pan that was on fire or from the repulsor-burned countertop.

With a frustrated sigh, Steve stepped in to break the three apart. His head was nearly shot off by a repulsor which instead burned a hole through a cabinet. Soon Thor's Pop-Tarts ran out and he began complaining loudly to the room at large. All-in-all, the chaos wasn't too terribly bad, but for a team of superheroes it was quite childish and rather disheartening for any onlookers.

Elia's phone vibrated in her pocket so she found a quieter room, three hallways down, and tapped the green phone button. "When are you coming back, Pepper?" Elia whined.

"_Day after tomorrow, is he really that bad?" _

"Yes, and I didn't realize that superheroes were just super powerful babies."

"_What's going on?"_ her godmother's voice was instantly in suspicious mode.

"I came back for dinner and everyone was yelling at each other."  
"_And what are the children arguing about today?" Pepper sighed; they really needed a babysitter or something." _

"Apparently Dr. Banner's cooking is really, really spicy. I don't see why they don't just order pizza or something."

"_My fault. I ordered JARVIS not to let any of them order out and I threatened Tony too_."  
"Why?"  
"_It's not healthy, though I suppose Steve and Thor and maybe Bruce don't really get affected by junk food, but still. A home cooked meal is much better than take-out any day_."

"Yeah, well hammer-head's finished off the remaining Pop-Tarts and the rest are squabbling worse than kindergarteners."  
_"Can you get them to stop_?"

"Steve tried."

"_He's one of them though. Have _you_ tried?"_

"Doubt I can top Thor's 'inside' voice let alone his 'I-want-to-be-heard' voice. And stepping into the middle of that seems like a hazard to my life."

"_Alright, let them fight. They'll stop eventually. In the meantime make yourself some dinner."_

"Where? Mr. Stark's blasting the kitchen apart with his gauntlet, Thor's swinging around his hammer, and the others are battling it out in a _very_ hard hitting fist fight."

"_Oh my goodness! Elia, don't go anywhere near them, am I understood?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

"_Wait, is Bruce fighting too?"_  
"No, but I can imagine the Hulk making an appearance at some point. Am I going to be cooking over a candle or something?"

"_Are they in the main kitchen?"_

"The one with the refrigerator big enough to hide two and a half bodies?"

"_Yes_."

"That's the one."

"_Use the penthouse kitchen. It's smaller, but the pantry's just as well stocked." _

"Okay, thanks Pepper."

"_Oh, and could you make some for the other too? I doubt they'll manage to feed themselves on their own_."

"Alright, bye."

"_Bye, don't stay in your room too much_."  
"No promises." She hung up after that and went up to the penthouse.

The kitchen was smaller than the main one, yet still slightly larger than average by non-Tony Stark standards. Elia decided to make tortellini. It was her favourite food and Vince made the best tortellini Elia had ever tried. Her poor attempt would have to suffice. She set to work on making the shell, with the help of an online recipe (she had taken a few minutes to fetch her laptop and hook it up to the sound system.) With her music playing over the sounds of brawling three floors below, Elia pretended that she was back home in Boston. She couldn't fool herself into thinking she was actually home, but moving about a kitchen, messing with ingredients while turning up her tunes – it was a familiar comfort. The recipe was simple enough and within the hour she was practically done.

Quickly putting together a 'quiet' playlist that was really just a bunch of awesome movie soundtracks, she took a bite of her first ever made-by-Elia tortellini. They were slightly overcooked and the sauce wasn't as good as Vince's, but they were good and she ate two bowls of the stuff – to make up for missing lunch, she reasoned. Halfway through her second helping her phone buzzed, signaling a call along with the Powerpuff Girls theme song. The display read Vincent Quint.

"Joe's crematorium, you kill'em, we grill'em," she said putting the device up to her ear.

"_That's a horrible way to answer the phone_," a familiar voice replied.  
"Hi, Vince."

"_That's better, how are you?"_

"Eating tortellini, so I'm pretty good."

"_How is it?"_

"Yours is better. This one's missing… something."

"_Did you put any spinach in it?"_

"Ew, no. Wait, really? That's the key, spinach?" Apparently her shocked and mildly disgusted tone was funny because Elia got an earful of Vince's rumbling laughter.

"_I'd do anything for spinach actually. Hospital food is terrible_."

"How's everything? No internal organ explosions?" There was an underlying tone of seriousness despite the lightness and joking which she used to say it.

"_No, but I'm hooked up to an oxygen regulator again. I'd forgotten how much I hate these things."_ Elia swallowed the dread that threatened to taint her words.

"Yeah, well the thing's helping to keep you alive, and I for one think that pro definitely out weights whatever cons you've thought up."

"_Good point. So, how's New York?"_

"It's a lovely state."

"_And New York City?"_

"Kinda feeling like Rapunzel, locked up in a tower."

"_Has Rapunzel left the tower at all?"_

"She did, Steve took her to a bookstore and then hung out at his gym."  
"_Steve?"_  
"One of the warden's Avenger friends. Ever heard of Captain America?"

There was a moment of silence before: "_You had _the_ Captain America take you to a bookstore."_

"Yep, and we drove there on his bike. Vince, his motorcycle is amazing! It's old school, but like, refurbished and looks exactly like yours did."  
"_Exactly like mine?_"

"Yeah, right down to the level of seat squish."  
"_And you were okay getting on it? Just like that?_" They both remembered painfully clearly what had happened on Vince's bike. Her voice softened and seemed smaller.  
"I didn't realize what his bike would look like when he mentioned having one. I kinda freaked out when I saw it and not in an excited way. I may have held onto Steve tighter than I should have during the ride."

"_You're okay now though._"

"Mostly. But I've been remembering stuff all day." She didn't have to explain what she meant by 'stuff'.

"_You'll be fine, put on some music and get some sleep. I know you spent hours working on your parts before going there. Martha told me_."

"I miss you a lot, Vince."  
"_Hey, none of that. Have some fun there. I know you don't like Stark, but don't get into any fights with him, alright?_"

"Fine."  
"_Are you actually going to stick to that?_"

"If he's not an asshole–"

"_Language,_" he warned in a voice that parents often used to chastise their children.

"Sorry."  
"_Just try to get along with him. Maybe he can help you with your parts' glitches._"  
"He's not going anywhere near my parts." She'd spent far too much time developing them to have him tinker with them.  
"_Get some sleep, kiddo_."

"Back at you, old man."

The sound of a bubble popping ended the call. She dumped what remained of her tortellini in the big dish, her appetite lost the moment she'd heard her former foster father's weakened voice. His tone was as it normally was, kind and authoritative at the same time. His voice itself however, as in the sound waves produced by the larynx, those weren't as steady as it once had been. Words were strained and breaths heavy as he'd spoken to her. To be perfectly honest, Elia was frightened and worried. The accident had done a lot of damage to them, though Vince was still feeling hat damage heavily five years later. He'd been struggling along to this point, but Elia wondered how long he'd be able to hold on. When would his last day be? New Year's? Or after he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day, like he so often promised he would.

Elia stopped that train of thought and instead noted that she could no longer hear things breaking from below. Did they kill each other? She hoped not, Steve was pretty cool for a ninety-something-year-old.

"Something smells good," a voice said from the elevator and soon six people entered the kitchen. Okay, so none of them were dead, but it was clear that they'd had to get a first aid kit out.

"Take what's left, I'm going to bed." Elia waved a hand to the tortellini.

"It's not even nine," Clint pointed out, looking at the oven's clock.

"Yeah, well I got woken up too early today," she said glaring at Tony.

"But you took a really long nap earlier," Steve added.

"Still tired. Goodnight somewhat super people." With that she disappeared into the elevator leaving the Avengers with a very large plate of tortellini.

. . .

She was tired, yes, but Elia had things to do, and unlike most kids her age she didn't procrastinate. Her homework for school was done, all of it, even the projects that weren't due for another month, she'd finished. Adjustments to her parts needed to be made – experimental adjustments that may or may not improve function.

"Might as well get on it," she said to the quiet room.

A black tank top and blue shorts were quickly changed into, and Elia settled herself on the carpeted floor. She decided to put on some music (Beethoven), because quiet always unnerved Elia when she was alone. The suitcase under her bed was pulled out and opened, revealing an assortment of tools and metallic devices.

Her conversation with Vince had steered her down a rough path of thought, memories of the wretched day she shouldn't be able to remember clearly, yet knew every single detail about.

. . .

_A head of red-brown hair that was redder in the sun than it was on its own poked out from behind a tree. The young girl smiled brightly seeing who was there and dashed toward him. He was tall, much taller than she was, and wore a green hat covering short hair that Elia knew was black. The man looked around, probably trying to spot her, and called her name. _

"_Vince!" she cried and flung herself at the man, hugging him tightly around the waist. "I was following a bird and it was hopping away and when I got closer it flew away."_

"_Do you know what kind of bird it was?" His voice was gentle and he pulled a hat that she'd forgotten inside over her head._

"_I think it was a blue bird. Where are we going today?"_

"_Do you remember what you asked me yesterday?"_

"_Why can't the sky be green?"_

"_No," he said, taking her hand and walking to the garage. "Your question before bed."_

_Elia thought hard on it, but then her face lit up in remembrance. "I asked 'When can I call you Papa?'" _

_As he placed a helmet on her head he nodded his own. "Do you remember the social security worker, Mrs Lynn?" Elia said yes. "Last night after you went to sleep she called and said everything was clear for the adoption." _

_Elia's eyes widened under the shade of the helmet and her mouth hung open slightly. "Does that mean…"_

_Vince smiled lovingly at the girl who was about to become his daughter. "After I sign some papers, I'll really be your Papa." Before he could see her expression, she'd latched onto him again. She hugged him tightly, far too excited and happy to express it with words and settled for squeezing him as hard as her small body could. They remained like that for a while, not noticing the cold creeping into their winter clothing, the warmth they felt from knowing what soon would be chasing away the chill._

_Vince lifted up the girl, twirling them around once before placing her on the motorcycle._

"_Papa, why aren't we taking the car?" Elia saw him grin when she called him that._

"_I haven't gotten winter tires for the car yet, and the roads are slippery."_

"_And the bike has winter tires."_

"_It does, so we'll be safer."_

"_But it's going to be cold!"  
"That's why we're wearing jackets, mittens, scarves, and even hats under our helmets." _

_He got on the bike, in front of Elia. She chose whether she wanted to sit in front of or behind him, sitting either on the front or back of the seat when she got on. Vince put on his helmet and checked Elia's once more, tightening the chin strap a little more though it was fine before, the girl squirmed a bit but let him fix it. _

_The adoption agency was located in downtown Boston, roughly twenty minutes from their home, but it was just after New Year's and it wasn't rush hour so they hoped there wouldn't be much traffic. Elia held onto him with her small arms, not long enough to completely wrap around his waist but enough to reach his jacket pockets and stick her hands in them. _

_She liked being on Vince's motorcycle, though more so in the summer when the wind didn't bite her skin with frosty teeth. She liked the way they leaned over when making a turn and the openness of the air. In a car she felt safer, but sometimes closed in spaces made her fidgety. Noticing this once after a long drive when they went camping, he got out his grandfather's old motorcycle, buried under various things in the garage and fixed it up until it was good as new. Elia had watched him spend weeks working on it, removing dust and dirt from the parts, replacing some that were beyond repair, and at the end putting on a new coat of paint. _

_The first ride after the shiny black paint had dried and Vince had renewed his motorcycle license, Elia would never forget the feeling of just… openness._

_Vince drove slower that day, wary of the icy roads despite the tires he'd equipped the vehicle with. They reached the edge of downtown, stopping as the traffic light turned red. It was a four way, though they were the only ones there. Elia grinned, seeing snow begin to fall and pulled out one of her hands from Vince's pocket to watch the white flakes drop onto her mitted hand. The day was just getting better and better, Elia thought cheerfully. When they got back home she planned on making an igloo with her papa in the back yard, and then when they got too cold they would go inside and have the special hot chocolate he made. _

_Neither saw the minivan skidding out of control and going too fast behind them as the light turned green, or the car barreling ahead from their right. _

_The light turned green. They went forward, Elia's hand still reaching out for snowflakes. Something slammed into them from behind, causing Vince to lose his balance on the machine beneath him as they slid farther into the intersection, leaning closer and closer to the ground, wobbling and trying to regain control. _

_Out of the corner of her eye, Elia noticed something red veering toward them. She opened her mouth to tell Vince. "Papa, ther–" The car crashed into them before she could finish._

* * *

A/N: Been a while since I updated this, huh? Cyber-bagels to all who guessed who Vince is :)


	4. Chapter 4

Hearing a knock on her door, Elia closed her suitcase and slid it back under her bed. If it was the Warden at her door, she would slam it in his face and get back to what she was doing; if it was someone else she'd hear them out before politely saying she was busy and closing the door with normal force. She slipped on a sweater before opening the door, knowing that the air in the hallway was colder than in her room.

"Did you need something, Steve?" The tall man stood in her doorway, taking up most of it.

"No, but we were wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with us."

"We?"

"Mostly me, but the others agreed that you shouldn't have to be alone. Tony kind of insists."

"Thanks for thinking of me and all, but I'd rather stay here."

"Come on, how is being cooped up here all alone better than spending time with others?"

"In just about every way possible, I quite enjoy isolating myself in this overly large room. Thanks anyway, bye now." Steve sighed in a strangely 'you've left me no choice' way. Suspicious of the heavy release of air, Elia quickly shut the door. The loud slam of the door never came however, as it was held firmly by a strong super soldier hand.

Not expecting it and before she could react properly, Elia found herself thrown over Steve's shoulder and carried toward an elevator. The soldier carried her like a sack of potatoes, though with one of the weight. The position was probably more comfortable for him than for her.

"Mind putting me down?"

"Are you going to run for it?"

"No. I might walk or scurry away, but I won't run."

"You can get down at the couch." She could have kicked him or hit him, and if she used certain parts of her body, it could hurt him enough to make him release her. But Steve was only being considerate and trying to do something nice. So she merely squirmed a bit before finding a somewhat more comfortable position.

Elia wasn't sure how many floors they moved, or whether they'd gone up or down, but the elevator ride was short and when they stepped out they entered the main living area. On the television was some version of _A Christmas Carol_. The Avengers were scattered about the room, Stark was on the couch playing with one of his inventions, Thor was watching the screen attentively from his spot on the floor (though there was plenty of space on the couches), the assassins sat closest to the coffee table and were drinking what Elia guessed was vodka, and Banner was sitting in a recliner, smiling amusedly at the two stepping out of the elevator.

"Will you put me down now?" Elia asked, the embarrassment of her position only now being realized as she felt her face grow hot. The room's occupants turned to the newly arrived, none quite able to hide their amusement, least of all the billionaire who immediately cracked up at the sight of them.

"I said the couch, not two feet from the lift."

"Close enough. Please?" Several long strides had them at the expensive piece of sitting furniture. He gently dropped her on it, Elia grumbling all the while.

"How nice of you to join us," the Warden said still laughing.

"It's a one-sided sentiment," she replied in a less than friendly tone, getting up and making for the elevator, though instead relocating as far as possible from the man-child at Steve's pointed look which ordered her stay in the room. She may have been a teen without much respect for authority, but she deemed that he'd used a 'Captain America' look and that really was hard to ignore. So she sat quietly near Banner.

The movie didn't hold her interest for long, the monotony of yet another rendition of the Christmas classic only serving as white noise as she retreated into the sanctuary of her mind. She supposed it could be considered daydreaming or spacing out, Elia liked to think of it as tuning into a different station. All the other stations, like reality, were still there, she was just listening to a different one. Unfortunately the station she tuned into then wasn't a very pleasant one.

. . .

_Everything was fuzzy when she woke up. Or when she thought she woke up. She wasn't too sure if she was actually awake or not. Everything was fuzzy, her hearing, her sight, and the things she smelled; it was all so unclear. Slowly, whether it was minutes or hours later, things started coming into focus._

_Elia noted that she was in a bed, but it felt different than her own. This one was harder and the sheets felt wrong. She couldn't feel her fluffy blanket though she always slept with it, and she was aware of something in her arm every time she moved it slightly. The light in the room was bright, made even more so by the colorless walls which were far too white to belong to her purple and blue room. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she realized she was in a hospital room. Why was she in a hospital? _

_Panicking, Elia tried to sit up but found that she couldn't. She could move her body parts a bit, but not enough to push herself up. Suddenly she realized that her right arm and leg wouldn't move. In fact, she couldn't even feel them. Try as she might, the two were unresponsive. It never crossed her mind what she might see until she turned her head to look at her unmoving limbs. _

_And when she did look, Elia screamed. _

. . .

"–go to?" The station turned back to reality at the sound of Bruce Banner's inquisitive voice.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"It's alright. I asked what school you go to."

"Oh, I go to Lewiston High School. In Boston." She hadn't realized the Warden had been listening until he spoke up like the know-it-all he was.

"No you don't." Elia's inner self groaned, was the man really so ignorant?

"Yes, I do," she defended, keeping her eyes fixed on the corner of the maroon rug.

"You don't. You go to MIT," the irksome man persisted. Sigh. _That_ had gotten the room's attention.

"Every other morning I do. The rest of the time I'm at Lewiston High."

And of course then came the incredulous exclamations of surprise.

"MIT, as in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, that MIT?"

"But you're like, twelve…"

"Yep, I'm drunk. You win this round, Nat."

"You're joking, right Tony?"

Maybe this was still salvageable.

"Right, because a sixteen year old girl who's already been suspended three times this school year and prefers sleeping through physics rather than listening is totally going to get into one of the country's best universities. Might as well run for president while I'm at it I suppose." She forced every aspect of the statement into sarcasm, even throwing in an eye roll at the end.

"You've been suspended_ three times_?" Steve asked slowly, almost menacingly. Huh, she hadn't thought this far ahead, so much for being smart. Though to be fair she didn't think Steve (or any of the Avengers) would go all 'disappointed-parent-who-wants-their-child-to-succeed-no-matter-what' on her. At least the Warden was distracted; it seemed that he was trying to figure out how to get the others to believe him. She sincerely hoped he failed in a fiery spiral of misery.

"They weren't very long suspensions…"

"You were _suspended_," he reiterated.

"I think we've covered that." Having Captain America glare at you wasn't an enjoyable experience, Elia noted. "It wasn't my fault," she said although it sounded more like a question.

"Why did you get suspended?" Bruce asked more kindly, yet still with a rather disappointed tone. Why did these people even care? They met her less than twenty-four hours ago.

"I broke a school rule."

"I'd assumed as much," Steve said continuing to frown at her.

"Did you get into fights?" the redhead asked, looking amused as she sipped her drink.

"Two out of three," she admitted, starting to play with her phone to keep herself distracted.

_You guys don't have a hedgehog, where would that sort of urine come from?_ Might as well reply to her texts.

_Is the microwave broken because of hedgehog urine?_ She'd already talked to Vince, so she figured she didn't have to reply to his message.

"What sort of fight? Was it a cat fight or an actual fight?" the archer turned away from his alcohol to fully invest himself in the conversation.

"Do you want to know about fight A or B?"

"Here!" The sound of Tony Stark excitedly calling for attention made them all turn to look at him. He had the television screen showing records of sorts, all of them Elia's. "See? She's got registration forms, an acceptance letter, and report cards. She _does_ go to MIT and not some crap high school."

The room's attention was shifted from one thing to another, and though Elia felt momentary relief at no longer having her school behavior scrutinized, it only lasted just that – a moment. Because now she had to deal with people knowing that she was a university student, not to mention the very likely repercussions of having lied to superpeople (though she hadn't actually lied).

"Are those files real?" Bruce wondered aloud.

"You hacked into MIT's computer files," someone else deadpanned.

"Er… yes, but it was to prove a point." Then he turned to Elia with a smug look on his face. "Can't lie to me, little girl."

In response, Elia scowled and stuck her arm out. "Phone."

The Warden tossed the device to her and asked, "Why do you want it?"

"You used it to hack MIT, right?"

"Yeah." No one heard the teen's quiet, 'It's my turn now.'

Elia knew what she was doing; she'd done it enough times, too many if she was being perfectly honest. It wasn't always just for fun, but to her it was a puzzle, and Elia liked puzzles. Puzzles made her think and often made scenarios that real life just didn't have. But those were puzzle games, and what she was doing at the moment was definitely not a game. She still loved them nevertheless.

Wishing she had her laptop but making do with the StarkPhone, Elia skillfully entered the Boston Public School System. It was probably the easiest thing she'd ever had to break into. Barely five minutes had passed when she got to what she wanted and let her findings show on the television screen.

"What's that?" Elia wondered how the man could be considered a genius.

"I go to Lewiston High."

"That doesn't answer my question."  
"Read them, Sir. I'm sure you can do that much."

No one spoke for a while as they read her school files. Every achievement, grade, detention, and suspension was up there for them to see. Bruce took the phone from her to open some other files.

"Why are you going to high school?" the Warden asked, his voice an amalgamate of emotions ranging from confusion to… anger?

"This may come as a surprise to you, but most teenagers attend high school."

"But you finished, graduated, moved on to other stuff."

"And then I went back because hey, maybe sitting through classes with people sometimes old enough to be my parent was starting to get to me."

"You didn't tell me," he accused, a little more anger colouring his voice. Elia finally looked at him, this man that was supposed to be her father, making sure her eyes were nothing but ice. Somewhere far away she thought she could see the others' bemused expressions.

"I tried. You didn't pick up when I called, or reply to my text, or my email, and I assume you weren't listening when Pepper told you, because I know she attempts to keep you informed of what I do."

Keeping calm was a skill Elia still had to work hard at. She thought she was doing pretty well so far.

Adding to anger was disappointment in his tone along with a dose of 'I expected more from you'. "I get a lot of calls and messages, why would I ever check _all_ of them? And you never mentioned it any other time. Doesn't seem like you tried very hard."

Yeah, she'd have to practice staying calm some more. "Fuck that! If you really wanted to know, it shouldn't be so hard to tell you. I had other things to think about that didn't involve telling some drunken asshole that I was trying to be a normal adolescent."

She didn't look back when she stormed away and entered the elevator.

"JARVIS, take me up to my room."

"I'm sorry, Miss Quint, but Mr Stark has forbidden me from allowing you onto that floor." The voice almost sounded sympathetic.

"Is there a recording studio here? One for music?"

"Yes, would you like to go there?"

"I would. And don't tell Mr Stark where I am or I'll reprogram you to talk like a redneck."

"I highly doubt you can do that, my protection systems are top of the line." Elia got her phone out and started typing and tapping. Stark Tower was a frequent victim of her hacking expeditions, though she was never detected.

"I'm there, JARVIS, and you know it. I could completely shut you down if I wanted."

"So is seems, Miss."

"Do as I say now?"

"Of course. You'll be at your requested floor in 23 seconds."  
"Thank you. And don't tell Mr Stark that I can do that."

"I will not inform him of the extent of your skill."

. . .

"I feel like we're missing something," Clint said once the teen had left. They all knew that there was more to Tony and Elia's relationship. People didn't argue like that with their girlfriend's godchild. They didn't get the chance to question Tony, however, as he had left in as great a huff as the girl, going up a flight of stairs to his workshop where soon they heard music blaring from.

"Found why Elia was suspended," Bruce announced, the screen now showing all of Elia's misconducts since ninth grade. "First one was in September when she got into a fight with another girl – older – and ended with the other girl shoved in a trashcan and rolling down the hall. Five day suspension then two weeks of detention."

"Just her? No help?" Natasha asked.

"Some kid supplied her with a garbage bin, but aside from that, no. Second one was in November. Another fight, this time in the school parking lot and against some football players; twisted one of the guys' wrists, broke someone else's finger, and fractured another's nose. Ten day suspension, followed by two weeks of detention, and two weeks of community service."

"I took her for a geek, not a fighter," Clint commented.

"She is a fierce one," Thor agreed.

"And the third?" Steve was more than slightly baffled with the information.

"About two weeks ago for causing a disturbance in the school library involving verbal threats; three day suspension and one week detention."

They contemplated things for a while, not saying anything to each other.

"Think we should talk to her?" Clint said, breaking the prolonged silence.

"Yeah, she's acted up a couple other times in other years," Bruce continued to look at her files.

The others agreed and set off to find the troublesome child.

. . .

Elia sat in the music room. It may have been built for recording, but it was also a great place for hiding. The room was sound proof, the security camera was easily covered, and there were no windows to exterior areas. From the storage room, which housed all sorts of equipment and instruments, Elia brought out a trumpet. One thing she loved about regular high school was the band program.

Elia wasn't an artistic person. She could draw plans for machines or for things she wanted to build, but ask her to draw a flower and it would look either very geometrical, or like the work of a blind four year old. She wasn't eloquent either and her words were usually a mess on paper (unless it was science related), but music she could do.

Music she could simply let flow and create. It didn't require intense focus or thinking outside the box to discover the answer. There wasn't a problem, so why would she go looking for an answer? Music wasn't bound by formulas or equations like the other things in her life were. There were numbers, and variables, and theory to know, yes. But they were different from facts of science and though to most that was such an obvious thing, to Elia is was a wonder.

So she sat on the floor, leaned up against a foam lined wall, in silence that was only disturbed by the notes of her trumpet. She didn't think about mechanical or chemistry problems, or people problems, or father problems.

There were no problems – there was music.

* * *

A/N: Salutations! Another chapter as I wait for my spaghetti to finish (must wait for water to boil, grr..) Feeling a bit scatterbrained with this story, but then again I feel that way about most things.

Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

IMPORTANT A/N: Right, so just a note at the beginning, if you read this chapter before December 30, 2012, please read it again because it is _different_. Thank you to aorangeinboston who helped me out with this, and of course thanks to all other reviewers for continued support. If you read this chapter for the first time on or after December 30, 2012, don't worry about this note.

* * *

Elia didn't know how long she was in the room. She didn't particularly _want_ to know. Scales were played, major, minor, harmonic, arpeggios, chronic, all at an even and steady pace. While some in her band class loathed scales, Elia actually enjoyed them. Music may have been her escape from problems, but still math and formulas crept into her mind as she played. Scales were patterns, sometimes irregular and seemingly random, but there was always a set way to do them.

When she'd played all the scales she knew, Elia move on to the national anthem, for no other reason than the simple thought of 'why not?' Pieces that Elia had memorized required little focus, which allowed her to be washed away by the notes in waves of soothing sound.

. . .

Each Avenger had a bit of a mission on their mind when they split off after going over Elia's files. They didn't really think up a plan, they merely headed in their own directions, some searching with more conviction to find the teen than others. There were many floors and hiding places in the Tower, which meant locating Elia wasn't the easiest of tasks.

Bruce, however, wasn't looking for Elia at all. He doubted he'd leave a lasting impression even if he did find her. Instead he walked the path to Tony's personal workshop, intent on getting answers for his newfound questions. The workshop wasn't a laboratory, those were located on another floor, and so the nuclear physicist wasn't a frequent visitor. Nevertheless he still had the pass code to all of Tony's science related spaces and punched the numbers into the keypad with laid-back certainty. Bruce waited a moment for the light to flash green and for the door to open, but the light that flashed was red and the buzzing noise made sounded distinctly like rejection. Again the scientist tried, thinking that perhaps he'd typed it wrong or that the lock was just malfunctioning, but he knew better than that.

Another flare of red and a disapproving buzz. Bruce decided to try the old fashioned way. Bringing his fist up to the metal door, he knocked. When there was no response he knocked harder. "Tony?" The music coming from inside was loud, even from outside, and he doubted the inventor heard anything.

"Mister Stark has placed the workshop on lockdown and has ordered me specifically not to allow anyone to disturb him." Sometimes Bruce could almost swear that the AI had emotions, because he thought he heard a trace of regret in the automated voice.

"Could you tell me if he's alright?"

"I'm sorry, Dr Banner, Mr Stark has disabled all monitoring devices within the shop except for basic security."

An idea struck the scientist. "Your primary task is to make sure Tony's safe and well, right JARVIS?"

"Correct."

"Well, if you let me in, I could make sure he really is fine." He was negotiating with a computer program, what was the world coming to? "You're blind here, I can check in on Tony."

"Actually, I am not completely oblivious; the basic monitors show movement and a slightly elevated heart rate."

"JARVIS, just let me in, on grounds of checking in on his mental health." A moment later the light turned green and the door slid open.

Bruce was hit with a fresh wave hard rock and the distinct smell of alcohol. "Tony?" he called, trying to send his voice over the music, but failing as the sound was lost in an overpowering guitar solo – or perhaps not, as the music seemed to increase in volume. "Tony!" he shouted, using a bit of Hulk to get it to resound. He was working on cooperating with the Hulk and not just blocking him out.

Immediately the AC/DC shut off and Tony popped from behind a cluttered desk, a welding mask flipped up and a wine glass of something in his hand.

"What?" the man snapped angrily. "And I thought I ordered JARVIS to keep everyone out."

The AI chose not to comment.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked, stepping toward the other man.

Tony snorted, "'Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Bruce thought he heard an 'it's not like there's an ungrateful little spoiled brat in my house…'

Deciding not to say anything about it, he said, "You just seemed… upset when you left earlier."

The billionaire threw off the mask and collapsed into a conveniently placed sofa. "Want a drink?" he asked, pulling out a bottle of Jack. Bruce took a seat on a metal crate and declined. Shrugging, Tony forgot about the glass in his hand and drank straight from the bottle.

"Pepper won't be happy about that."

"Pepper won't find out about this." The look Tony was giving him told him that his little drink wouldn't be noted on to the CEO of Stark Industries.

"So," Bruce said, not quite smoothly transitioning between subjects as he would have like to. "Elia."

"Nasty thing, isn't she? We should dangle her off the side of the Tower." While Bruce could tell he was joking, there was a worrisome tone of seriousness in his voice.

"Actually, she seemed nice enough–" Tony scoffed. "But it looks like you think otherwise."

"She's a mistake, Brucey," he took a long drink from the bottle. Bruce smelled vodka. "Shouldn't even be here. Don't know why I try with her…"

Gears began turning in the sober man's mind, turning over possibilities with facts to suit the theories. He didn't have many facts, so theories were minimal as well, but foggy prospects began appearing in his mind.

"Tony, what is she to you?"

The man paused at this, turning his wandering eyes to fix on Bruce. "Pepper's godkid, an annoying little shit that I have to spend the holidays with." His words were slurring, however, and Bruce couldn't tell how true what had just come out of his mouth was.

"Is that all?"

"Yep. Now relax, Mr Green and Jolly, and have some of this, Natasha brought it from… somewhere, and it's amazing!" Ah, so that was why the man seemed drunk so quickly. Alcohol that Natasha brought was as strong as it could come, second only to Asgardian drinks.

With a sigh, Bruce replied, "No thanks. But really Tony, if you want to talk, I'm here for you."

"Right! Because we're science bros!" And then began muttering something about sciencey teens with no respect for the subject matter.

Bruce decided to take his leave realizing that Tony was very drunk, the man's rambling becoming coloured with more and more curses, and wouldn't get anything more from the man. Once out of the other man's hearing, Bruce ordered JARVIS to enable surveillance in the workshop, and to alert him if Tony's drunkenness got out of hand. Pepper would slaughter him if she knew that he'd left Tony with alcohol in the area with dangerous tools, but sometimes Tony's moods couldn't be handled by another.

. . .

Clint and Natasha ceased their search after a half hour, figuring they could at least say that they'd tried if Steve asked if they'd made progress. After all, it was just some kid with issues, why get assassins involved? They found Thor in the kitchen, the demigod looking up at them from his plate of cookies as they entered.

"Ah! I was in the process of searching for the young lady Elia. But then I was distracted…" Clint and Natasha didn't say anything about it, merely sitting down with him and taking some cookies as well.

They'd let Steve and Bruce deal with the runt.

. . .

He'd been walking around for a while, he wasn't sure how long, but he'd checked quite a few rooms in his search. Steve had started with Elia's room, then the rest of her floor, and then all the other places he thought she might be. There wasn't a trace of her anywhere.

And then he got an idea. One that he slapped himself for not thinking of sooner.

"JARVIS, where's Elia?" JARVIS pinpointed the teen in seconds, and all that was left for Steve to do was follow the voice's directions.

"JAR, didn't I tell you not to let anyone know where I was?" Elia huffed when he entered the recording room.

"No, you instructed me to keep your whereabouts hidden from Mr Stark. I was given no orders to withhold–"

"Right, got it, will think orders through next time," she grumbled, glaring at the ceiling.

"Elia," Steve interrupted her ongoing grumbling. The girl turned to him, a blank look on her face. "What are you doing in here?"

An eyebrow shot up in a way very reminiscent of a certain inventor. She gave the trumpet in her hand an appraising look. "Well, I'm holding a trumpet, and I'm sitting on the floor of Mr Stark's expensive recording studio, so considering all the evidence… I believe I'm building a spaceship."

Perhaps it had been a bit of a dumb question.

He sat down next to her. "You can play it?" he tapped the polished brass. Another dumb question, he realizes, but it doesn't get a snarky response.

"Yeah. Band class at school," Elia replied, this time without a trace of sarcasm. "Our brass section rocks."

"I never had the lung capacity for wind instruments when I was in high school, or money for an instrument. Play something?" She shifted uncomfortably, but did as he said.

"Reveille?" Elia nodded. The sound was identical to the call played in the army. "It's better on the bugle though."

"No, that was great. Could have sworn it was Louis playing and not you."

Her brows furrowed slightly as she asked, "Louis?"

"Sneaky little whack that woke us up in the mornings, during the war. We all loved and hated him. Without the bugle he was the nicest fella in camp, but with it he was the devil."

"You're comparing me to the devil?"

"What? No, to a really great wake up guy… instrument player… musician…"

"Thanks. I think."

Neither said anything for a while. Elia decided to ignore the man's presence and keep playing, though keeping it to easier songs, she didn't want to play bad notes with someone else there. As minutes passed she became more and more conscious of his movements, his breathing, his _being_, and finally couldn't disregard him anymore.

"What do you want?"

"I used to get into a lot of fights, back before the serum." Elia groaned, a very frustrated sound that lent to Steve's prediction that this conversation wouldn't be the most pleasant.

"You looked at my school records, didn't you?" He nodded. "And now you're going to lecture me about proper conduct and self restraint, aren't you?" It seemed that she expected it, out of routine and not just from random guessing.

"I'd like to hear your side of the story first," he replied calmly.

"Right. I'm leaving now." Getting up, she didn't expect to be pulled back down half way there. "Let go." Steve gave her a _look_. "Please?"

"Getting into scraps with people really doesn't get you anywhere, trust me, I know."

Elia rolled her eyes. "I don't go looking for people to fight with. I just sort of get mad and before I know it someone's on the ground."

"Why do you get mad?"

"Stuff is said, and it just ticks me off."

"You should walk away, let it go."

"Did you?"

Steve paused, slightly torn. He decided on the truth. "No." She gave him a look that said 'hypocrite'.

"Why?"

His mind flashed back to a time when he'd answered a similar question.

'_Did you have something against running away?_'

"Start running, they'll never let you stop. You stand up, you push back, can't say no forever, right?" he replied to the ghost with the bright red smile and warm brown eyes. He forgot he'd been talking to Elia until she spoke again.

"It's never about being picked on though, or standing up against bullies. I'm not the easiest target they could go for. I'm just their favourite. So yeah, I push back, hard as I can."

"But there's a difference between little Steve Rogers and Elia Quint. I wasn't going to do anything great. Maybe try for some sort of illustrator's job, but the way things were, I probably would have been lucky to be a paperboy all my life. I'm not book smart, and before Project Rebirth I could barely even lift a bag of potatoes. You, on the other hand, are immensely smart. You've got an entire life ahead of you, and you could do so many things in it."

"Wait. 'Wasn't going to do anything great?' Dude, you became Captain America!"

"But if that hadn't happened–"

"Just drop it, okay?" her tone was harsh, an attempt to bring finality to her demand. "You're the ninth person to give me this sort of talk. So… leave it. Please."

"Fine, but tell me one thing," he acquiesced, seeing her fists clench tightly. "Why weren't you able to walk away?"

Watching her expression crumble from defensive to something less guarded was interesting. The change was minute, almost invisible, but Steve knew how to read people, and saw the slight slump of her posture, the loosening of her grip on the trumpet, and eyes shifting around uncertainly rather than staring blankly at the ground.

"What do you do when someone insults the ones you care about most?" she asked suddenly after thinking a moment.

"What?"

"When your best friend is under attack for something he shouldn't be ashamed of, but ends up in tears about later once everyone's gone. When the one who raised you like no other could, is put down and insulted without base. What do you do?"

Steve knew that situation well enough. Back when people actually associated with their neighbours, almost everyone looked down on his mother. Like most in their neighbourhood, the Rogers weren't economically fortunate, which was made worse in the eyes of others because of Mrs Rogers's sick and feeble son. Sure, he was probably the most polite kid on the block, but that didn't erase the fact that half the time he was inside away from everyone else because he was sick or because no one wanted to play with Steve the Stick. It made him furious to hear people criticizing his mother, who worked three jobs to support them and still spent as much time with him as possible. Hear them run her name through the mud because she was raising a kid alone and without help and he wasn't like the other boys. But Steve hadn't done anything about it, because his mother had told him not to, but that hadn't stopped him from snapping at a couple shop owners now and again when he'd heard them though.

"Sometimes you just have to let it go."

"But…" her voice shook in her plea, "What right do they have to say those things?" Elia had been defending someone when she'd gotten into a scuffle, and Steve understood that that made it a hundred times harder to walk away.

"They don't, you have to be the better person."

He didn't say anything more, choosing to let his words sink in.

Elia got up again, he didn't stop her, instead he walked her to her room, where he bade her good night and hoped that what he said wouldn't be forgotten by morning.

. . .

Elia tended to disregard her telling offs, fed up with the monotony and repetitiveness of what she was being told. Whether it was about stealing a cookie from the cookie jar before dinner, or sort of breaking a linebacker's face, Elia only ever heard one message: You messed up, don't do it again.

And then Steve did his little song and dance, and somehow it was _different_. She could still hear the same message, but something he'd said had stuck out for her.

'_Be the better person_.'

Vince had frequently told her to be the best person she could be, and maybe somewhere along the line she'd forgotten that, and that part of his goal in raising her had been to guide the substandard child that was she, and have her turn out a good person. It hadn't mattered when she failed that one spelling test (three, but the words were hard), but when she kicked a boy in the shin for pouring paint on her (stupid kid had cried and told the teacher), he'd deprived her of dessert for a week.

It had just taken a lecture from Captain America himself for her to remember that point.

She promised herself then, that she would walk away when faced with a conflict again, that she wouldn't lose her temper, and that she wouldn't be a disappointment in that aspect again.

Elia had disappointed a lot of people in her life; she didn't want Vince (or Steve for that matter) to be added to the ever increasing list.

. . .

Elia avoided the Warden as best she could (partly to evade the explosion of hate that tended to boil over when the man was around, and partly because what he'd said and how he'd said it stung more than she cared to admit). If he was in the kitchen or any other room when she walked in, she would turn right around and go somewhere else. If he entered while she was in a room, Elia would take the initiative to find some sort of excuse to leave, not sparing the man a single glance.

She spent a lot of her time in her room messing around with her parts, trying to get the newer models to work properly. Whenever she was at her wit's end though, she ventured out of her room, careful to keep away from the Warden, and found something to distract herself with. Often she would stumble upon Steve and hung out with him for a time. He took her out for rides on his bike when she was feeling particularly squirrelly and cabin feverish, which was ridiculous because she was staying in _Stark Tower_, and the place was huge and had hundreds of things she could do. Nevertheless she suffered from a bit of Rapunzel syndrome and asked to get out from time to time.

Occasionally she sat around with one of the other Avengers, watching the archer firing arrows in the shooting range, getting a mini-lesson from the Widow in self-defence, beating Thor at Mario Kart, or sitting quietly with the mild mannered scientist as he worked. Elia liked solitude well enough, but alone with her mind long enough and she tended to go a little nuts.

Pepper took her shopping, when she came back, and the two spent the day first at the mall where Elia picked up some clothes to replace her ratty and torn up clothes. Then, on Pepper's insistence, they went to shops that Elia would never set foot in without her godmother. The clothes she tried on were stiff and professional looking, two things that Elia disliked very much. Despite it all, however, she enjoyed the outing and being a 'girl'. Not that she wasn't a girl at other times, but she didn't exactly act like it. Skirts and dresses? Better for starting fires than wearing. Her ears were pierced, though she hadn't wanted them so, and really only wore one set of silver studs. Clothes shopping for herself she only ever did twice a year; once with Pepper during winter break, and once with some friends in Boston for their school's end of year dance.

Without the Warden to bring down her mood, her time in New York was turning out to be better than she could have expected. She either called or skyped Vince every night, whether for ten minutes or two hours, Elia didn't really care, hearing from Vince was always a high point in her day. Justin and Anna had called to wish her a merry Christmas and to let her know that their family was leaving on their yearly family visit to New Zealand. They promised to bring her back some of their grandma's cookies.

All in all, things were looking up for Elia.

. . .

Tony was an ass. He knew it– as if he couldn't with people constantly reminding him – but usually he didn't give two shits and went on with doing what he wanted. Now, however, he couldn't get his mind off it. His daughter was doing everything to steer clear of him, and really he kind of deserved it. Only kind of, though.

For a while he thought he was completely in the right, and ignored the brat right back. But then when she didn't waver in her treatment, and he was getting tired of the cold shoulder, he wondered if he shouldn't have dug up something she didn't want announced. He wasn't having doubts, Tony Stark never doubted his decisions, but perhaps there'd been a slight error in his calculations.

The Avengers didn't really do family dinners, they weren't a family. But there were a few minutes where they'd all be in the kitchen at the same time, getting food and then leaving. Elia snagged her food and then evacuated the room before he could even get within five feet of her. Breakfast, where everyone was most likely to sit down together though didn't happen often anyway, the teen slept through. If he tried tracking her down during the day, she was either locked in her room or with Steve, and he didn't want to deal with gushy family matters with the Capsicle present.

Pepper wasn't any help either, her only advice being, "This is your fault, you can fix it." But how was his supposed to fix anything if the other half of the equation refused to go anywhere near him?

He managed to corner her in a hallway once, but she brushed passed him and when he grabbed her arm, all he got was a glare and something that sounded like 'Go play in traffic.'

Perhaps some scheming would be necessary…

* * *

A/N: Ta-da, hope that was better. Been a bit late with this story, and I'm not too sure how long it'll still be Christmas-y but for now we'll have an extended Christmas :)


	6. Chapter 6

IMPORTANT A/N: I present you with another chapter. If you read chapter 5 before December 30, 2012, please go back and re-read it, as I have made many changes. Anyone reading it after the 30th doesn't have to worry about anything.

* * *

_It was strange, missing an arm and leg. Having to re-learn everything with her weaker less coordinated limbs and with only one side properly functioning was irritating, and most days Elia just wanted to hide under the covers, away from everyone and everything. But Vince told her that things would only get easier if she put effort into recovery. She did her best, because Vince was trying his hardest go get better as well. Elia decided the that she shouldn't wallow in sadness for herself, at least she could sort of hop around – when her balance allowed it. Vince couldn't use his legs at all. _

_Paralyzed, is what he'd said it was. He couldn't move anything lower than his waist. So he couldn't visit her room to tuck her in at night unless he was in a wheelchair, but he didn't want to make more work for the nurses, so he called her with the hospital phone instead. It wasn't the same, and she told him that she missed having him sit on her bed and sing her a lullaby, but the best he could do was sing through the phone. _

"_Papa, will we be able to go see the fireworks on the Fourth?" Elia sat on Vince's bed, spending her free time after her morning with the tutor and before physiotherapy with the prosthetic limbs she'd gotten the other day. _

"_Maybe, if I'm a bit better by then. If not you could go with Avi and his grandpa." Elia pouted. _

"_But you give me piggy back rides so I can see better."_

_A sad look crossed his face, and Elia instantly felt guilty. "I don't think I can give you piggy backs anymore."_

"_Then I'll sit on your lap while you roll around in your wheelchair, Papa." She thought her solution would make him smile, but instead his frown only seemed to deepen._

"_I don't think you should call me Papa anymore."_

"_Why? Do you not like it?"_

"_No, but with the way I am…" he seemed to glare at the IVs poking into his arm. "They won't let me adopt you."  
"Why not?" she whined, tears starting to form in her eyes._

"_I'm… I guess you could say broken, and taking care of myself is hard enough let alone a child. Elly, I haven't even been allowed out of the hospital yet. I'm sorry." Elia crawled up and hugged him, because Vince looked like he needed it, but then again so did she. _

"_But why can't I call you Papa? It doesn't matter what the papers say, you're my Papa."_

"_It hurts to know that you won't really be my kid, and it'd be better if you didn't call me Papa when your next family comes for you."_

"_I don't want another family! I want you!" She hadn't realized that she'd started crying, but the warm hand rubbing circles into her back was calming her. _

"_Haven't you ever wanted to know your real dad?"_

"_You're my real dad…"_

"_Your _real_ dad, Elia." Elia knew what that meant, and she didn't like it one bit. Vince was her dad, no one else could take that spot. _

_Later, after physio and after dinner, Elia met her father for the first time in her life. The man who stepped through the door was tall, but Vince was taller, with brown hair and a carefully trimmed beard and moustache. Elia thought he was kind of scary, with his perfectly pressed suit and dark sunglasses. _

"_Hi, Elia," the man said with a kind smile that she didn't like. "I'm Tony Stark, and I'm your father."_

. . .

Christmas Eve rolled around quickly, and though it was the liveliest Elia had had in years, some of the Avengers noted that the Tower seemed kind of empty. Thor had decided to spend Christmas with Jane Foster, and had left earlier that morning. His booming voice was missed by all. Natasha was sent on assignment, recon of something or other in Bulgaria. She left presents under the plastic Christmas tree though, and promised to try and be back soon. And there was also Bruce, who'd worked up the courage to call Betty Ross. After much pacing, and taunts from the rest to 'man up and call her you sissy', he was meeting up with her for the first time in years.

Elia continued to avoid her father, pointedly ignoring any and all looks Pepper gave her for doing so.

"Your choice, but you're being immature." Elia took that as a go ahead to keep doing it.

Vince had said pretty much the same thing, though laughed when she told him that she'd hidden in a closet at one point and a stack of toilet paper had avalanched onto her. It occurred to her that she may be overreacting –hadn't Pepper said that exact thing the day before? – but if it meant no more arguments with the Warden and a peaceful Christmas, if an awkward one, then it was worth it.

She was getting to know the Avengers (minus the one she didn't want to know at all), quietly and randomly sitting in on whatever they were doing. At first they had been uncomfortable with her presence, though soon enough they become accustomed to her popping in during whatever they were doing. They weren't exactly friends, but the assassins were now sure that she wasn't a threat of any sort– after Natasha wiped the floor with her in a lesson on 'self-protection'. She'd gotten back up every time she was thrown down, and perhaps that's what earned her the tiny smidge of respect she thought she'd seen in the Black Widow's eye when she offered her a hand off the training mats.

. . .

Tony Stark was a man who could count the times he'd apologized to someone in earnest on one hand. It wasn't often that he admitted that he was wrong, or expressed his regret, but he gave into the fact that matters with his stubborn kid needed to be settled. The blatant evasion of his person was well past beginning to grate on his nerves, and Tony didn't really see why she was going to such lengths to keep away from him.

Yes, he'd said some things that that generally made people upset, but the brat was taking it too far. He'd barely seen her the entire week, and wasn't her stay with him during her school break supposed to mean that they spent time together? Then again, she never really liked her visits…

The others refused to help him, the team not understanding why he needed to put things straight with Elia so badly, and Pepper having decided that he needed to deal with Elia himself for once.

So he took the initiative to talk with her (read: got over himself and actually confront her rather than go off to find her but then get distracted) and went to her room.

He knocked, waiting a moment, and then knocked again. After confirming with JARVIS that she was in her room, and still received no response from inside, he proceeded to hammer Ode to Joy on the door.

"Stark, if that's you, go the hell away! If it's someone else, please go away!" came the muffled reply.

"Kid, open up. We need to talk!"

"No we don't"

"Stop being a baby and just open the door, Elia."

A minute passed, and Tony felt his patience wearing thin, but the door cracked open and he let himself in. The room was tidy, mostly, with the expected clutter of clothes and machine parts lying about on the floor. The curtains were drawn open, exposing the New York skyline in the morning light. Her bed, which looked more like a nest, was unmade and Tony figured that she'd only been awake for a short while.

Elia plopped back onto the nest of blankets and pillows, not offering him a seat anywhere, though he took one on a stool anyway. She looked just like a normal teenager, but Tony knew there was so much more to her. Being who he was, Tony didn't understand why she would ever want to be normal or average, life as someone so unremarkable seemed terribly dull.

"I can feel you judging me from there. Stop it, Sir."

"Stop calling me that."

"Yessir." She added a mock salute in what he thought was spite, or perhaps it was just cheekiness. "To what do I owe this pleasant visit?"

"You've been avoiding me. For like a week."

"That I have."

"Care to explain why?"

"Not really," He shot her an exasperated look, "But I'll do it anyway. About half the time when we're in the same room, we end up arguing, or just yelling, and I'm just putting off any impending conflicts that may arise." So maybe their main form of communication was at a high volume level, it wasn't that bad. "I'd just rather not chance it."

"So this has nothing to do with telling the others that you go to MIT?"

"Oh, I'm still very ticked about that." She picked up a sharpie and started doodling on her palm. "And about you getting mad for not telling you about high school, and I don't think I've forgiven you, so I'm trying to forget it."

He frowned deeply at this. "Hey, uh, I'm sorry. For what happened." The inventor looked his daughter in the eyes as he said the next part, hoping to convey how much he meant what he was saying. "I'm a jerk, I know that. But you're my kid and I'd like to be a decent dad. _My_ dad was way less than perfect, and I don't want you to end up like me; some guy – or girl, in your case – carrying daddy issues into adulthood and twitching every time someone brings him up."

Elia watched him, studied him, tried to decipher if he meant what he said, or if he was half-assing this like he did just about everything else. But there was a gleam of hope in her eye. "Just one questi–"

"Sir?"

"Not now, J." Tony replied dismissively.

"But, Sir, Director Fury wants the Avengers to assemble. Miss Romanoff has requeste–"

"Really, now of all times?" he snapped in frustration, but pulled out his phone anyway, out of habit, to get an overview of the situation.

"Sir, it's urgent, Captain Rogers is demanding you get to the landing pad immediately."

"Right, right, save the world… We're finishing this little pow-wow later, got it kid?"

"Sir, yes, Sir. Don't get blown up." It was probably the most endearment he'd gotten from her, ever, and took it for all it was worth.

He was making progress, he thought as he rushed to get his suit, and he would be damned if he let his chance slip away. When he got back, he was determined to straighten out all the little (or not so little) twists and turns with Elia, and perhaps take her for ice cream. He wondered how long it would take to get rid of a mad scientist bent on the utter destruction of Europe…

. . .

With the Avengers gone to prevent global disaster, Elia and Pepper were left to spend the rest of Christmas Evening alone. Happy came up and had lunch with them, but had prior engagements to attend to, and left wishing them a merry Christmas. Pepper was upset that they had all left, but she couldn't really do anything about it, and contented herself with spending more time with Elia.

For dinner they ordered in from a pasta restaurant, which one Elia didn't know or care, and had that as they lounged about the living room.

"So you talked to Tony?"

Looking up from her book, she sent a questioning look to Pepper. "How do you know I talked with him?"

"On his way to get the suit, he was grinning like an idiot while cursing Director Fury, and said something about 'fixing' something."

"I've avoided him before, why does he care so much this time?" The question had been bothering her for a while, and she couldn't work out an answer. Not to mention she didn't want to discuss her 'talk' and that she had felt a drop better because of it.

"He's changed. Or chang_ing_, slowly, but he is. The Avengers initiative has grounded him more than anything before; I suppose being a hero's made him grow up some."

Elia supposed she could do some growing up as well. Her dislike of her father was partly due to a long standing grudge, and an eleven year-old's determination to hate Vince's supposed replacement. The Warden hadn't been there for her the first eleven years of her life, and he hadn't come because she'd needed him. He'd sought her out in a resolute (though Elia more thought whimsical) aspiration to be more than a crazy partying playboy. But he'd turned up, nevertheless, and maybe she'd let resentment cloud her perception of the man.

"Hey, Pep."  
"What is it?"

Taking a breath, because admitting things was never Elia's strong point, she pushed forward. "Have I been unfair with Mr Stark…. my father?" Pepper put down her tablet, slightly surprised at the girl's choice of conversation.  
"That's not an easy question to answer. In some ways you are, but then again, he's never been the best of fathers. I think that maybe if you gave him a chance, another one, he could learn to be a great dad." Elia nodded, and began slipping into thoughts of 'what if', but didn't get far as Pepper asked, "What brought his on?"

"Steve said something, which reminded me of something Vince said. Be the best person I can be. And I think I could start with getting along with my father better." It was hard, calling him that aloud. Maybe he could be her father, it would just take some time.

"I'll back you all the way with this. It's gotten ridiculous, watching you two argue all the time."

"Sorry…"

"At least you're going to work on it. Now, what do you say to a movie?"

. . .

They'd watched some sort of romantic comedy – Pepper's choice, Elia had voted for a holiday horror – in which Elia questioned the mental stability of the female protagonist and the intelligence levels of the entire male cast.

"So, what are you getting them?" Pepper asked as Elia moved to sit by the artificial fire. It gave off warmth like a real fire, but the flames were a hologram, and if she stuck her hand in, Elia wouldn't get burned. It was a bit of a letdown for Elia, she loved tossing things into fire and watching them burn.

"Who?"

"The team. You didn't think about that?"

"Um. Forgot…?" Her godmother sighed, and Elia didn't like the sound. "But I think I've got an idea for a gift."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Elia pulled out her laptop and started it up. "Christmas cards with meaningful messages."

"Are you going to put actual thought into the messages?"

"…No"

"Try again, kiddo."

It took her a minute to think of something, something that wouldn't require too much effort on her part. "An Avengers music video– do you think they would like that?"

"Only if you put in good shots of them."

"Got it, no gag reel material."

Plugging in earphones (despite the fact that it was Christmas, Pepper was working and Elia didn't want to disturb her); she chose a few songs that would probably work well, and tried to find decent footage of the team of heroes. She was tempted to use a Nickelback song just to annoy the Warden, but decided against it. Though she immediately ruled out any AC/DC without a second thought.

While she compiled a playlist of possible music choices, she started on selecting footage for the video part of the music video. The task was harder than she'd expected. Elia didn't want to use grainy cell phone videos, or shaky citizen videos. Security cameras only got her so far, as their frame was fixed into a single position and any shots of the Avengers was brief, as they would soon be out of frame to save the day.

"Pepper?" the girl said to get the woman's attention. She knew better than to ask her question immediately, she would end up having to repeat it. "Can I tap into the Tower's security feeds and look in the SI archived footage for things to use in my present?"

"Just don't disturb or alter anything," Pepper replied distractedly. Elia gave her a thumbs up, which she didn't see, and went on with her work.

As she expected, recording from Stark Tower security cameras was amazing. Every inch of the Tower was covered by video, along with several blocks surrounding the skyscraper. Though she was loath to admit it, the Warden's visual security was impeccable, with only a few blind spots that she was certain were intentional. The cameras recorded in high definition, and some even swiveled and rotated to follow movement. Not to mention some of the footage was from around the world, where smaller yet equally equipped SI buildings recorded heroic feats preformed by none other than the Avengers.

Going though the digital archive took a while, as she had to _watch_ the videos to know what was in them (though there were some files labeled things along the lines of 'Avengers being badass' or 'Oh look, we're awesome', which made her job somewhat easier).

Her search led her to footage from inside the Tower, where the Avengers had suited up a couple times and loaded onto a quinjet on the roof. She found some stuff with them training; Steve in his vintage gym (nothing angsty looking, from any of them, that would be an invasion of privacy), Clint and Thor sparring, and Natasha taking the heads off training dummies with varied high kicks, most of them aerial and in quick succession before hitting the ground. The Hulk didn't really need training, but Banner did some cool stuff in his lab. Of course putting in five of the Avengers practicing being heroic and whatnot, she had to put in the sixth Avenger. Equality and all that. So she watched some material with the Warden in his workshop, tinkering, inventing, blowing stuff up, getting blown up, etc. There was quite a bit of embarrassing recordings that simply begged to be used. She resisted.

"Hey, Pepper," she called, motioning for her godmother to come and see.

"Is that Tony's workshop?" Pepper asked, leaning over to see the screen.

"Yep, from when you were gone last week, and look what he's holding." So maybe she was a bit of a tattletale, Elia reasoned that it was payback for the time he told Pepper that she'd purposely failed a test (how he'd gotten that out of her she couldn't fathom to remember).

"He promised me… That lying little… His mouth is moving. I want to hear what he's saying." It was always best to comply with an angry Pepper's demands. Many of Stark Industries business associates had learned that the hard way.

'–_won't be happy about that,' video Bruce deadpanned._

'_Pepper won't find out about this,' drunk video Tony replied, toasting to his declaration_.

"Oh yes, she will," the woman muttered.

'_So… Elia.' Bruce said._

'_Nasty thing, isn't she? We should dangle her off the side of the Tower.' _

'_Actually, she seemed nice enough–' video Tony scoffed, his face showing utmost revulsion. 'But it looks like you think otherwise.' _

'_She's a mistake, Brucey." He took a long drink from the bottle before slurring, _'_Shouldn't even be here. Don't know why I try with her…'_

'_Tony, what is she to you?'_

'_Pepper's godkid,' he replied evenly and with certainty. 'An annoying little shit that I have to spend the holidays with.' That part he pretty much spat. _

_There was silence between the two until Bruce spoke again, pressing for more. 'Is that all?'_

'_Yep. Now relax, Mr Green and Jolly, and have some of thi–'_

Elia didn't watch anymore, she shoved the machine onto Pepper's lap and bolted for her room, the careless words echoing in her mind.

No, that man would never be her father.

* * *

A/N: Voilà! Thoughts?


	7. Chapter 7

Pepper wished that the rest of the Avengers knew about Tony and Elia's relationship. That way they could help her tear the stupid man to shreds and prolong his punishment when they got back. Pepper could only do so much herself. Perhaps she'd tell them.

Anger and sadness warred within her, wringing her heart like a wet cloth and squeezing out rage. She played the clip again, not exactly sure why, but something in her wanting to hear the spiteful remarks that made her cringe and want nothing more than to slap the man.

The fact that Tony had broken his promise to her about not drinking unless for a special occasion and in moderation was far from her mind at the moment, she was much more focused on her anger at his words. It wasn't the first time he'd said something of the sort about Elia, and certainly not the first time Elia had heard them, but it was the first in a while. Her insides twisted, recalling the teen's earlier resolve to make amends with her father, and then the only partially hidden pain upon hearing what the man had said.

Elia wasn't a flower, not of the delicate or fragile sort at any rate. She was determined and persistent, strong and resilient, but Elia was sixteen and there was only so much a girl could take. Pepper couldn't say the girl was practically her daughter (only one person really had that right), but she imagined that was what it was like, watching over Elia and spending time with her, it reminded Pepper of time with her own mother.

At most, however, Pepper only saw Elia two weeks a year, at a time when she had many parties and meetings to plan and a business to push forward during the holiday season. It wasn't ideal, but Pepper made do with what she got. She tried pulling together a family, with the two that were so by blood, along with Rhodey, Happy, and herself. Tony's Christmases before Elia usually either involved alcohol in extreme amounts, and/or being alone and working on some project. Whether he realized it or not, Tony needed people to be his family and Pepper tried her best to give him that.

Evidently, such a thing wasn't an easy task. Tony had a long way to go as a father, and Elia didn't want another one, Rhodey often had other priorities that came before 'family' Christmas, and Happy had a family of his own to tend to. So during the season of merriment, the three that could tried their best at being normal. The mission failed before it even started with Tony Stark as part of it.

There were some fond memories made, Pepper thought. A snowball fight in Switzerland when Elia was twelve, baking gingerbread men when Elia was thirteen, and that same year they'd gotten a real Christmas tree (their first ever) which was soon laden with ornaments and decorations. All these things, they'd done as a happy family. This year though, was falling back to the times when the father-daughter relationship was more like warden-prisoner than anything. Pepper had believed that with more people in the tower, with more family, things would go just as well, if not better, than the year previous. Potential conflict was anticipated, but it hadn't blown up as bad as it could have, and Pepper thought that, just maybe, after seeing Elia hang around with the superheroes, the teen could let in the strange odds and ends family.

. . .

The door was unlocked, which in itself was strange, but even more so was the distinct splintering of the door's edge. Elia must have kicked it. Inside the guest room – because Tony had forgotten to include Elia's own space when he designed repairs to fit the Avengers – a single lamp was on, a tall post with a blue papery shade. A few things were broken around the room; a mug, a picture frame, various papers… Her eyes settled on the girl lying in the overly large bed, whose pillows and blankets engulfed the teenager in a fluffy shell.

"Ellie?" Pepper settled down on the edge of the bed, thinking how best to approach the situation. She'd never been the best at comforting people, and before when Elia was upset like this, all the girl had wanted was hug. The chances of that tactic succeeding now, however, were exceptionally slim. "Are you alright?"

She received a grunt in response.

"Can I get a verbal response?"

There was a long pause, in which Pepper could hear music playing loudly out of earbuds, before, "'m fine." It was mumbled and distracted, something that told Pepper that the sixteen year old was _not_ fine.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." This wasn't getting anywhere. New approach needed.

"Sit up, please?" The girl reluctantly did so, bringing a grey pillow with her and hugging it against her front.

The girl next to her had grown up so much, looking more like a woman every time Pepper saw her. Her face had lost any traces of baby fat and was replaced with something feminine despite the loose fitting boyish clothes. More so than her physical appearance, was the change in her eyes. When once they were easy to read, thoughts merely a single layer that were thinly veiled, now the blue pools were unexpressive, or held false sentiment meant to mask the workings of her mind.

"Why did he say it?" And it was as if she was that nervous twelve year old again, asking the simple question of 'why?' in a voice that betrayed any traces of growing up.

Placing an arm around Elia's shoulders (because Pepper thought that maybe the teen was just reluctant to ask for a hug) she answered in a neutral tone, "He was drunk, honey. And angry, this was just after your argument, right?"

"But his drunken self wouldn't have thought to say it if it wasn't somewhere in his mind. When Stark's drunk he does stupid things, says stupid things. You of all people know that he's an honest drunk. Those stupid things tend to be the truth, unleashed without the constraint of sober filters, however few those are."

Pepper hated it when Elia referred to Tony as 'Stark', as if she herself weren't one as well. Perhaps she wasn't, but there were so many things Pepper could see that were shared traits of father and daughter.

"Nothing really changes."

"Elia–"

"I want to go home."

The business woman sighed, knowing that she couldn't refuse the girl this time. She'd asked to go back to Boston many times before, and each time Pepper replied with a firm 'no'. She was too angry with the ostentatious man to try defending him further, though really she felt no desire to do such in the first place, and had little resolve to subject her goddaughter to nearly another week of distress when she could be with someone who was most definitely not going to say that she was a mistake.

"Alright. Yeah, maybe that's best. Are you opposed to taking the jet?"

"I don't care."

. . .

It hurt a lot more than she thought it should. Way more than it should from a man that had left her before she could even physically survive on her own. But it did, it stabbed her again and again with a dagger of betrayal and hate.

_She's a mistake_.

_Shouldn't even be here._

The truth hurt, it did. The existence of Elia Quint wasn't supposed to have happened. The one time Tony Stark hadn't been careful was the catalyst; Stark had forgotten the simple yet essential rubber, and that had led to the conception of Elia. The baby wasn't planned, and although some couples would say 'unplanned, but not unwelcomed', Elia was without a doubt unwelcome. Tony Stark had wanted nothing to do with her, and at the prospect of raising a child on her own, her stripper of a mother had killed herself. What a great start to her life.

Elia didn't delude herself into thinking she was anything more than a slip-up, but she could ignore that fact, pretend it didn't exist and continue on with her life. Being called out on that exact reality broke the façade she built to keep out the unpleasant thoughts.

It shouldn't hurt as much as it did. Wasn't she always telling herself that what the Warden thought or said didn't matter? He meant nothing to her, so why were those simple remarks making her feel sick?

Time was needed to build the barriers again. Barriers she planned on making far stronger than before.

. . .

With Elia safely on the plane, and having arranged for a car to pick her up once she landed, Pepper had one more phone call to make before collapsing into bed and laying awake all night thinking up punishments for the brainless man-child.

The number she dialed wasn't one she called often, but the digits were always in her mind and never forgotten. She preferred when her only objective when calling him was to have a chat with a friend, the man was a great conversationalist, but on the many times that that wasn't the case, he had advice and a course of action when Pepper didn't have one.

"_Hello?_"  
"Hi, Vince. It's Pepper."

"_Ah, merry Christmas, Pepper_," the deep voice replied happily, the faint Boston accent ever present.

"Merry Christmas, Vince, I didn't wake you, did I?"

"_No, I was doing some reading. You don't normally call near midnight though, something the matter?"_

"No– yes… Ahm, Elia's going back." There was a moment when only the faint humming of the phone lines could be heard.

"_What happened?_" Though Pepper knew that what the man really wanted to ask was 'what did Stark do?'

She told Vince carefully, adding to what Elia had already told him of her argument with Tony, and then explained the footage of the drunken comments that Elia had seen and heard. Vince was normally a very calm, even-tempered man, yet now Pepper could feel the animosity rolling off him through the phone. Again there was silence, having finished her narrative of the night's happenings.

"_How was she?_"

"She just looked sort of empty. Not long before she found the video, she'd decided that she would try harder to make up with Tony. I think she might have just given up for good."

A heavy sigh was the only response for a long while, until, "_I'll see if I can talk to her. But I think it would be best if Ellie and Stark kept apart for a while._"

"Okay. I'll do my best to keep him away from her, but he can be too much to handle sometimes. I'll try though."

"_Thanks, Pepper._" A huff came from the man, one that was distinctly frustrated and tired. "_Could you give me a call when he gets back? I want to have a talk with him. Elia may not like him and claim that whatever he says doesn't mean anything, but I know Stark's words don't leave her unscathed._"

"No problem, but you'll have to wait until I've yelled him until I can't even whisper first."

"_You've got my consent. I expect him to need hearing aids afterwards._"

Pepper laughed, it seemed Vince always knew what to say. It was no wonder that Elia looked up to him and would call _him_ dad. His form of comfort and natural fatherly air (despite the fact he hadn't even reached forty years old yet) switched and blended easily with a friendly character and traits that could make anyone want to be friends with him.

"_Get some rest, Pepper. Maybe make some tea to settle your nerves; you seem like the kind of person who takes some time to cool down._"

"I'll do that. Thank you, Vince, and take care of Ellie."

"_Of course. I'll talk to you soon_."

"Bye."

The call ended, and though Pepper was emotionally exhausted, she was glad to know that at least Elia was in good hands.

. . .

After leaving a message for Justin and Anna, Elia plopped onto the couch of her cramped apartment. While she usually stayed with Justin and Anna the majority of the time, there were some times that things were best left with in the family, and thus, Elia needed a place to go. The Mabor family had told her to go ahead and use the house while they were away if ever she returned early, but Elia decided to leave the house in peace. She considered staying at Avi's, but was reluctant to interrupt his holiday. His sister had managed to squeeze in a visit right in time for Christmas and Elia knew that occurrence was rare and sacred in its own way. She'd visit her friend later.

The house she'd lived in with Vince had been sold and with the money she'd gotten a tiny one bedroom apartment that she used to get away now and again.

This was one of those times. Shrouded in darkness with the faint glow of the moon outlining the bookcase and desk by the window, Elia twiddled with a lighter, sparking an orangey flame into existence, and then just as quickly extinguishing it. Switching the fire starter to her other hand, she continued absently playing with it, staring off into space and trying not to think about anything of importance.

There was a band concert on the fourteenth that she needed to practice for, a poetry assignment in English to finish for after the break, and a minimum three page essay on Captain America's role in WWII. Her professor was quite the Captain America fanboy, and so her 'America in Depression and War' class often consisted of a Cap fun fact to start and end each class. She wondered how Steve would react if he knew she was doing an assignment on _him_ for university.

Elia was debating teasing the man about it, and how bright she could get him to blush, when she caught sight of a messy scribble on the palm of her hand in the brief seconds of illumination provided by the flame. It was a tad faded (taking a shower was at the top of her to-do list when she'd stepped into the apartment), but she could easily make out the three simple words.

_I'm sorry too_.

The Warden had apologized, that morning in her room, the first time she'd heard him do such a thing, but Elia couldn't find it in her do to the same– or at least aloud and to his face. So she'd written her own apology, genuine at the time, and had hoped to find the courage to say it later.

Bolting up and tossing the lighter onto the low coffee table, Elia strode to the bathroom and scrubbed at her palm furiously with soap and scalding water, leaving the skin pink and without a trace of the heinous words.

. . .

Elia stood by his bed, looking like she hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep last night (and if he had to guess judging by the shadows beneath her eyes and the slump in her usually good posture, he would assume that she hadn't). She'd offered a smile, which had been half-hearted at best and a grimace at worst.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked looking at the floor. The white hospital room set her on edge, its cold detachedness adding to her mistrust of the place. Unfortunately the establishment was keeping Vince alive and so she had to deal with it.

"No. A drop of disappointment, but I'm more inclined to take your side in this."

He wasn't angry at her…so why was her spirit sinking even further?

_Disappointment_. She was never enough.

"Pepper told me you were thinking of setting things straight between you and Stark."

"That was a mistake," Elia muttered.

Ignoring the comment, Vince continued. "I think it was good of you. And maybe you could still do that."

"I don't think I want to."

"Not now, no. After some time apart, perhaps? You'll have to face this again sooner or later."

"I can't. Around Stark what I am is a mistake, a slip-up. I can't go and face it because as his kid all I am is the aftermath of something that meant nothing to him. He doesn't even remember which one my mother was and so long as I'm not with him I can be Elia, Elia whose father isn't a celebrity, billionaire, superhero, or any of that and I can pretend that I'm normal…." her thoughts were moving too quickly to string together words with any sense, and so she let the sentence trail off.

She hadn't asked for any of this, hadn't asked to be born to Tony Stark, to be forgotten about for years, to be the child of a man who was looked up to by many, or to fall short of that man's expectations. She hadn't asked to be born.

Vince could practically see the gears turning in her head, and was quite certain that the workings within were of the dark and depressed sort. Talking about it now was too soon to solve anything, Vince decided. He thought he saw a tear in her eye, but then she blinked and it was gone.

"Put it out of your mind for a while, Ellie. We'll talk more about this later." Elia nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts clearly still chasing discouraging musings, and again Vince felt the urge to strangle Stark for doing this to his daughter.

Elia wasn't blameless in this, but Stark most definitely wasn't either.

* * *

A/N: So...not sure how good this chapter is. It's more filler than anything, and hopefully next chapter will be better. I haven't been thinking much about writing the past week or two as exams are coming up. That said, good luck to any and all who have to deal with the school-created monsters of ink and paper.


End file.
